


Break Him Down, Build Him Up

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU s10 sort of thing, Backstory character death, Dictatorship, Doctor/Master - Freeform, Doctor/River mentioned, F/M, Friendship, Incompatible Moralities, Missy POV, Off-Screen Heterosexual Sex, The Oncoming Storm, best enemies, time lord/time lord, twissy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 04:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15987224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: Missy finds the Doctor ruling a planet on his own. Naturally, she offers to help.





	Break Him Down, Build Him Up

Missy had cultivated a strong sense of things that didn't seem _right_ , which complemented her genetic and cultural sense of what things weren't supposed to happen and made her something of a barometer for things that were _wrong_.

Take, for example, the planet Strow. It had a mostly-boring history and an only slightly more interesting future. Nothing of great importance – galactically-speaking – would ever happen there. Its star would grow old and die and nobody would really miss the place when it was gone. It was fundamentally peaceful, which was to say that it was dull. 

Missy had long ago placed it on her list of Places To Visit And Make More Interesting. She had pencilled in a spot of tyranny in her diary for a rainy day. The population was docile and passive and would probably suffer hilariously under even the most lenient dictatorship.

So she was understandably annoyed to arrive and find that _someone else_ had nipped in and stolen her toys before she could even write her name on them.

The streets were subdued and the people avoided eye-contact with each other. Nobody spoke out of turn, bulletins and announcements were obeyed swiftly and without question. It was a classic, practically textbook, police state and Missy was deeply irritated that it wasn't her own doing. There would have to be a confrontation of some sort, she'd have to make sure it was understood that this planet was _hers_ , and that changing history was to be left strictly to renegade Time Lords of poor moral character.

She set fire to a bin and waited for someone to come and arrest her. 

\- - - 

Missy entered the throne room and felt one of her hearts skip a beat. It was the left one, which always misbehaved when the Doctor was around. 

He was sitting on the throne, wearing a black hoodie and a quite unreadable expression.

“Well,” she said, calmly, “is this one my more erotic dreams or did you actually take over a planet?”

The Doctor waved a hand and waited as his attendants and guards slipped silently from the room. He cleared his throat and said, “You look well.”

“So do you,” she replied. “I was just in the area and I saw that someone had set up a dictatorship before I had the chance to do it myself. Naturally, I was intrigued. I wasn't expecting to see you here, at least not on this side of the barricades.”

He shrugged. “The universe is full of surprises.”

“It is indeed.” She looked around the room, casual. “Did you have a bad day?” she asked. 

“I had a series of bad days.”

“Ah. I've been going about things the wrong way, I thought I could turn you evil with offers of endless power and bouts of kinky sex, when all I had to do was upset you enough.”

“I haven't turned evil,” he said, levelly. “I'm helping out.”

“Do the rebels know that?” she asked, eyes innocent.

The Doctor scowled. “They'll come round.”

“I'm sure they will.” Missy stepped up to the throne. “I must say absolute power suits you. You're practically glowing.”

“Stop trying to make this into something that it isn't,” snapped the Doctor. 

Missy put her hands on her hips. “Alright. But if you're serious about ruling a planet then you're going to need help. I have some experience in the area.” She waited for him to reply, and poked his ankle with her foot when he didn't. “Offer me a job,” she prompted. 

“You'll just try to ruin everything,” he said, unconvinced. 

“Which will give you someone to oppose. Go on, ask me.” She leaned in towards him. “I promise I'll be on my best behaviour.”

This time he acquiesced, but warily. “Missy,” he said, sounding tired, “would you like to be my empress?”

\- - - 

“There was a civil war raging when I arrived here,” the Doctor explained as he poured Missy a glass of wine in his private rooms. “You know what those are like, you've meddled with enough of them yourself.”

“Easy to start, hard to end.” She sipped at her wine. It was slightly spicy.

“It seemed like the best thing to do was take over for a while after the main violence ended. Get things back on track, make sure neither side took advantage of the other.”

“How very kind.”

He shrugged. “Well, that's the idea, at least.”

“And you were angry,” said Missy, picking up on what he hadn't said. When he looked at her in surprise she continued. “You're alone here, and you're never alone. I take it you lost someone in all the fighting?”

The Doctor looked like he wasn't going to answer, then finally he nodded. “Bill. She was brave, clever, far too young to die. So I stopped the war and appointed myself emperor to stop anyone else from claiming the throne.” 

Missy hid a smile. He was so predictable in some ways. Really, she should have thought of it herself. “I'll help you,” she said, “for Bill.”

The Doctor glared at her. “Don't lie to me, and don't use her name when you do.”

“For us, then. You and me.” He nodded to that, and Missy was delighted by how easy it was to win him over. The Doctor always meant well, but it was easy enough for things to go wrong, especially if there was someone around who was willing to give them the occasional push... Yes, this could be good. This could be very good.

If this was a dream then she didn't intend to wake from it for quite some time. 

\- - -

She was a little disappointed when the Doctor gave her her own set of rooms, but she insisted on the best ones and he didn't bother to argue with her on that. 

“Are you lonely?” she asked, wandering her new quarters and examining the expensive-looking décor. 

“A little,” he said, plainly downplaying the situation. “They kept throwing concubines at me, but all they wanted was sex.”

“Such a shame,” she said as though she meant it. “Well, you have me to keep you company now. I can give you a quick primer on despotism as well, if that would help.” 

He leaned against a marble pillar and folded his arms across his chest. “I'm not that kind of ruler. I'm not a pushover, but I'm not going to hurt people if I can avoid it.”

_Yes_ , thought Missy, _that's how he'll start out. And then..._ “Of course.”

“You're welcome to offer advice, but I'm not going to turn to the dark side because you whisper stupid ideas in my ear.”

“I never said you would,” she said, lightly. “I'm sure you're very busy,” she said, pointedly. She wanted some time on her own to make plans and think things through. 

He smiled. “Subtle as ever, Missy.” He walked towards the door. “There are servants around here somewhere, if you need anything. Just yell and I expect they'll come running. Remember to say please and thank you.”

“How much do you pay them?” she asked, picking up a golden vase and appreciating the value. 

He shrugged. “I'm not sure. They haven't complained yet, if that means anything. I'm sure they're probably very happy.”

Missy replaced the vase. “Yes,” she said, “I'm sure they are.”

\- - - 

“Do you have a parliament?” she asked, taking her seat on the throne that had been placed next to his on the dais.

The Doctor shook his head. “They didn't like my land reforms, they refused to even debate them. I had to dissolve the assembly and start ruling by decree.”

Missy sat back, comfortable in her position of power. “Good, that should streamline things.” She leaned towards him as the day's petitioners shuffled into the room behind the Doctor's advisors. “We have equal authority here, but you can have the power of veto, agreed?”

He nodded. “Agreed.” He gestured to his audience. “Who's first?”

A man in bright yellow robes stepped forwards. “My Lord, may we enquire as to our new Empress? Who is she? Where did she come from?”

“None of your business,” snapped Missy. She turned her attention to the Doctor. “Ignore that one, he's obviously an idiot.”

“You'll do what she tells you,” said the Doctor to the advisors. “She's frighteningly intelligent and she'll know if you try to deceive her about anything.”

Missy practically purred with delight. She beamed at the crowd, revelling in the Doctor's praise. This was going to be very good indeed. 

The Doctor looked around the room, then glanced at Missy. “I don't really know where to start,” he whispered. 

“Let me,” she answered. She spoke clearly. “Step forward anyone who isn't here to ask for money or land for themselves.” When only a few petitioners stepped towards the dais she nodded, satisfied. “There, that thinned the herd. Don't worry,” she said to the Doctor, “all it takes is a bit of practice.”

They dealt easily with the requests for assistance and financial aid, Missy tempering the Doctor's eagerness to help everyone and drain the treasury while doing so. She was actually quite impressed by his even-handedness, his ability to prioritise needs and ambitions. He made a sarcastic diplomat, but not a bad one. 

Finally Missy announced an end to the audience and the two of them retired to his rooms. She ushered the servants out of the chamber and waited for the Doctor to tell her how wonderful she was. 

“Thank you,” he said, “I was glad to have your support back there.”

“I have a lot of experience,” she said, with false modesty.

“I thought you were more into spreading chaos and putting down your enemies.”

“Most of the time,” she agreed. “I tried to mimic your approach in this case. I'm willing to do a bit of good if it helps us maintain control of this world.”

“I'm going to give it back eventually,” he insisted, though she wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. 

“Of course,” she said, leaving that potential argument for another time. “Now,” she continued, “about my reward.”

The Doctor frowned his confusion. “Reward?”

“I'll help you with this planet,” she told him, “but I want something in return.”

“What?” He looked ready to agree to almost anything, which boded well.

She stepped closer, placed her hand over the space between his hearts. “You.”

He looked surprised. “Me?”

She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and pulled him closer. “You,” she breathed against his lips. She kissed him, half-expecting him to push her away and deepening the kiss when he didn't. She pushed him backwards into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them. His hands wandered across her back and she slipped her fingers under the hem of his hoodie before turning her attention to the zip and dragging it downwards in a smooth motion. 

“This is usually the point where you say that we're about to make a mistake,” she prompted. 

“Maybe we're not,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. He started pulling away the clips that held her hair in place, letting it fall about her shoulders in a dark wave. 

Missy smiled, and pushed him onto the bed.

\- - - 

She knelt beside him, tracing the scratches she had left across the skin of his back and gently pressing down on the marks her teeth had made. They looked good, and she was proud of her work. 

With a fingertip she began writing invisible words on his back in circular Gallifreyan. Nonsense at first, before inspiration struck and she wrote _Mine_ between his shoulder blades with a purposeful flourish. 

“I'm not yours,” he said without opening his eyes. 

Missy wasn't startled by his response. “Of course you are,” she said. “You're mine and I'm yours. That's the way things have always been, the way they always will be.”

“How romantic,” he quipped. 

“Yes,” she said, “it is.” She moved from her knees and pulled the sheets up over them as she lay down. She closed her eyes and thought about destruction until she fell into a contented sleep. 

\- - - 

When Missy woke the other side of the bed was empty and she found the Doctor sitting, fully-dressed and alert, at a large table in the adjoining room. The table was covered in files and sheets of paper. 

“What are you doing?” she asked as she approached from behind him.

He didn't look round. “I don't suppose you know anything about farming subsidies?”

Missy smiled and slipped her arms around him, hands clasping over his chest. “You have advisors to deal with that sort of thing.”

“If I subsidise the farms then the food will get cheaper and the population will be happier,” said the Doctor, reading a list of rural complaints. 

Missy moved, taking the paper from him with one hand and ruffling his hair with the other. “No need to worry your pretty little head with things like this, Doctor.”

Finally he turned his head to look at her. “I'm in charge of the planet because I'm trying to help out, and I'm going to.”

“If you say so.” Missy replaced the list on the table before them. “I never bother about things like this when I'm ruling empires.”

“And that's probably why you keep getting overthrown,” the Doctor countered. “I can make these people happy,” he insisted, “it can't be that hard, it's only economics.”

“Face it, dearest, you have no idea what to do once you've brought down the corrupt regime. No wonder you always run away at that point.”

“Well, that's going to change.” He sounded sincere, determined, and just a little bit sexy. Missy smiled again. What was that saying about power breeding corruption? The Doctor had no idea what he was getting into with all of this. She just hoped they had popcorn on this planet for when the whole system inevitably collapsed into chaos.

\- - - 

Missy held up two swatches of embellished fabric. “What do you think, the diamonds or the pearls?”

“The pearls,” he said, moving a pile of satin to one side so he could sit on the edge of the table. “Are you sure we can afford your new wardrobe?”

“A few dresses won't bankrupt the planet,” she said, carelessly. She turned to let the seamstress measure across her back. “Besides, I have to look the part.”

The Doctor looked down at his faded Clash t-shirt. “I get enough respect wearing this stuff.”

“You're a man,” she replied, “you're not expected to dress up.” She shooed the dressmaker away. “I love performing femininity,” she went on, “it throws people off. You should try it sometime.”

“I can't even manage ginger,” said the Doctor, rather sadly. 

“I heard a rumour about you,” said Missy as door closed and they were left alone.

“Of course you did.”

“You got married.” She raised her eyebrows at him.

He shrugged. “I get married all the time.”

“You _settled down_. You did that ridiculous one-day-after-another thing, _voluntarily_.” She shook her head. “And you did it with a human, or as I understand it with a mostly-human who had a few genetic quirks.”

“You're jealous?” he asked, as though this were a surprising notion.

“I'm possessive,” she said, “I never claimed otherwise.”

“Well, she's dead, so you don't have anything to worry about.” It was obviously hurting him to talk about this, but Missy had never had qualms about causing the Doctor pain. 

“What did she die of?”

“Does it really matter?” He sounded tired, like it was exhausting him emotionally just to approach the topic in conversation. 

“I suppose not,” said Missy, deciding to be lenient. 

The Doctor picked up a bolt of green velvet. “This would bring out your eyes,” he said, undeniably trying to change the subject. “And it's soft.”

“I can get them to make you a matching hoodie, if you like.”

He laughed. “I'd look ridiculous.”

“You always look ridiculous.” She made a show of shivering. “I remember that awful coat you used to wear. You were like a one-man Pride parade.”

“Hey,” he protested, “I loved that coat! At least I didn't wear solid black for... how many regenerations?”

She shrugged the comment off. “It suited me. I was dashing.”

“You were,” he agreed. 

Missy smiled. “I was. No wonder you fell madly in love with me.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but there was no malice in it. “Yes, obviously I was won over by your handsome good looks.”

She laughed, because she knew it was probably true.

\- - -

They sat on opposite sides of a small table lit by a single candle. Servants lined the walls and the kitchen was working on their requests. As they waited to eat, Missy smiled at the Doctor and stroked the back of his hand. She was certain he was happier now that they were together, now that she was his friend, his advisor and – finally, at last – his lover once more. He smiled back at her with affection obvious in his eyes. 

“How are those little insurrections going?” she asked, never having learned not to mix business with pleasure. 

The Doctor sighed. “Do we have to talk about those?”

“Yes, we do. Do you have any more ideas about stopping them?” She let go of his hand and took a drink from her glass of wine.

“No,” he said, with obvious regret. “I tried reaching out to them but they don't want to negotiate. They don't like me, they don't like being told what to do.”

Missy nodded. This sort of thing was a common problem when she ruled planets of her own. “Starve them a bit, halt the production lines. They don't know how good they've got it with you in charge.”

“I'd rather win them over with kindness,” he said, though he must have realised by now that this was never going to happen. 

Missy shook her head. “Too much empathy, that was always your problem. People need a firm hand, they need to be controlled. They need to be taught to respect their betters.”

“We're not their betters, Missy.”

“We most certainly are. We're Time Lords, they're not.” She gestured around the room at the waiting servants. “These people are not our equals in any way.”

The Doctor shook his head. “You're too influenced by your upbringing. You need to step away from what we were taught and look around the universe instead. You might be surprised by what you find out there.”

“I've looked,” she said, “and I didn't find much to write home about.”

“What about Earth?” he ventured. 

“Well, exactly. Unlike you I don't have any affection for the place, which is why I see it as it really is. Wars, death, torture and suffering. Perhaps you can take it over as well once you've sorted out Strow.”

The Doctor looked up as the waiter arrived with their food. He was obviously glad to have a distraction. “Eat your soup,” he told her, “it's actually quite good. A hundred year old recipe.” 

Missy picked up her spoon and dipped it into her bowl. She had been winning the argument, of course, but she didn't need to rush it towards a conclusion. And she was, she realised, rather hungrier than she had thought. The debates about the nature of the universe could wait.

\- - - 

There was a knock on the door. 

“He's busy,” called Missy, deeply annoying by the interruption. 

The knock came again, more urgent this time. The Doctor pushed himself up from his position between her legs. “It might be important,” he said, sitting up and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“It had better be,” muttered Missy, rearranging her skirts and getting up from the bed. 

The Doctor opened the door and the head of the imperial guard looked from one to the other before speaking. “Your Imperial Majesties,” he spluttered, “there are riots outside the palace. The city is in open rebellion.”

“Slaughter them,” said Missy, eager to get back to more enjoyable activities.

The Doctor shook his head. “No.”

“A show of force will calm them down,” said Missy, revising her instinctive reaction to appeal instead to the Doctor's irritating sense of morality. “A few executions will work wonders on the general mood.”

“I won't kill anyone,” he insisted. 

“You have to,” she told him. “You can't just impose peace and then let them take up arms against you and each other. You have to be firm.” She nudged his arm. “Minimal executions. Just the ringleaders, go on.”

The Doctor was obviously disturbed. “I can't.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to do it?” she asked, quietly. 

“No, I don't trust you not to go too far.” He turned back to the man at the door. “Just the ringleaders. Tell the others they'll be forgiven if they go home peacefully.” The guard nodded and left to carry out the orders.

The Doctor closed the door, shaking slightly. Missy took his hand. “Right,” she said, “back to bed.”

He shook her off. “I'm not in the mood.”

_Well, I am_ , she thought to herself, irritated. She composed herself and nodded. “I understand. Do you want me to leave you alone for a while?”

“Please.” He turned from her and headed towards the other room. Missy watched him go and then let herself out. 

\- - -

He avoided her for two entire days, and in the end Missy barged into his rooms without knocking. “Stop pretending I don't exist.”

“Missy -”

“I talked to our advisors. The rebellion was quashed and most of the protesters have gone home to their families. So it worked. A little bit of killing and you fixed the problem. Feel free to thank me for my assistance.”

The Doctor pushed himself up from his armchair and stood. “You're right.”

She hadn't been expecting that. “Pardon?”

“I said, you're right. It might not be the easiest thing to live with, but it worked. We're safe, the city's safe, peace continues to reign.” 

She pulled herself up to her full height. “Of course I was right.”

“And I'm grateful. I couldn't have done it without you.” He walked over to her and embraced her, pulling her against him. “Thank you,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

Missy's bright smile was hidden from his view so she didn't bother to fight it. She was winning. 

\- - -

Missy woke when the Doctor screamed. He sat up, eyes wide open. 

“Bill!”

Missy pulled herself up and rubbed his back as his gasped for breath. “It's just a dream,” she soothed, “it's in the past now.” With a hand on his shoulder she pressed gently until he lay back down, and then she tugged she sheets up around him. She took him in her arms and leaned his head against her shoulder, stroking his hair. Softly, she began to sing an old Gallifreyan lullaby, one that had always comforted her when she was in the nursery. 

She paused. “Is this too Oedipal for you?” 

The Doctor smiled weakly against her shoulder. “My mother couldn't speak Gallifreyan.”

Missy nodded and continued, holding him tight and keeping her voice quiet and tender. 

_Hush, my darling baby,_  
_Time will conquer pain,_  
_After all the darkness,_  
_The suns will rise again._

The Doctor stilled against her, breathing calmly as his heartbeats slowed. She held him close until her mind reached out to find him fast asleep once more. 

She'd look after him. She owed him that much.

\- - -

The man who had written anti-government slogans on the palace walls stood before them, shaking slightly as he waited for their verdict.

“I'm going to have to send you to prison,” said the Doctor, with a serious expression.

“Don't,” said Missy. 

He turned his head to look at her. “Why? Do you want me to kill him?”

Missy shook her head. “Don't be silly. I want you to kill his family. You have to give people the right incentives to behave themselves and follow the rules.” She waved a hand at the assembled guards. “Go on.”

The Doctor bit his lip. “Missy,” he said, after a pause, “I can't just -”

“Yes, you can. It's easy. Do you want this place to slide back into anarchy and war?”

He looked at her for a long moment, then stood up and left the throne room. 

Missy watched him go. She nodded to the highest-ranking officer in the room. “Get it dealt with,” she said, then rose and followed the Doctor from the room. 

She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. She tutted and sat down beside him. “Don't let it bother you,” she said, stroking his back with her hand, “you have to be tough if you want people to do what you want.”

He sighed and looked up. “What did you do to him? After I left?”

“Nothing,” she said, easily. “Don't worry about him.”

The Doctor leaned against her. “I thought it would be easier than this.”

Missy shushed him gently, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Don't worry so much. You're helping these people, even if they can't see that yet.”

This wasn't quite going according to plan. The Doctor hadn't fallen as quickly as she had hoped he would. She had a lot more work ahead of her. Still, there was no rush. She had all the time in the world.

\- - -

Missy paced her bedroom, her thoughts racing as she considered her predicament. 

He had nothing else to lose, that was the problem. She couldn't think of anything to push him just that tiny step closer to the edge – his friend Bill was dead, his absurd wife was dead, Missy was the only person around to influence him. The obvious next step was to kill somebody he cared for, and there simply wasn't anyone left. How was she supposed to make him feel righteously angry when there was nobody left whose death would hurt him personally?

She stopped pacing when it came to her. There _was_ one person left. The solution that was appearing in her mind was risky, but where there was danger there was also opportunity. And it would be worth it, it would absolutely be worth it. 

Missy laughed. This time she was going to win.

\- - -

At dinner that night she carefully avoided any talk of treating the population more harshly. He wasn't ready yet, and pressing the issue over a meal wasn't going to get her anywhere. She had to play this perfectly if she wanted it to work. Instead, she encouraged him to talk about his friends and his adventures, and after a brief debate over whether the topic would lead to her throwing a jealous tantrum he began to open up. 

“...and then when I went there again, with Martha -”

“Is this is the same Martha who got everyone on Earth to pray for you to defeat me?” asked Missy, her tone mild. 

The Doctor looked a little embarrassed. “It wasn't really _prayer_ as such...”

“But this is still a story that ends with me getting shot?”

The Doctor shook his head, dismissing her concerns. “No, that was months later. I'm telling you about New Earth.”

“Go on, then,” she said, stirring her soup and then taking a sip from her wineglass. 

“Well, they had something of a drug problem. Manufactured feelings, delivered via a dermal patch.”

Missy coughed. 

“I'm not sure how it _started_ , but it ended when -”

She coughed again, clutching at her throat. 

The Doctor stopped talking and leaned across the table, obviously perturbed. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “The wine,” she croaked. 

The Doctor stood and rounded the table. He put a hand on her back and crouched down at her side. “The wine?”

“I think the waiter put something in it,” she gasped. “I've been poisoned.”

“Are you sure?” The Doctor felt for her pulses, looked into her eyes. 

She nodded, slumping against him as the choking grew more intense. 

The Doctor turned to the guards at the door. “Arrest him,” he said, pointing at the waiter, who immediately began protesting his innocence. The Doctor ignored him, lifted Missy in his arms and carried her into the bedroom next door. 

Missy was hit by another coughing fit as the Doctor dropped her onto the bed. He buzzed around her, pulling out the sonic screwdriver to scan her. 

“Your throat's closing up,” he told her, all-business. “And there's something flooding your lungs.” He put the screwdriver away. “Try using your respiratory bypass, that should help a bit.”

Missy did as she was told, pulling in a last breath of air before she let the bypass kick in. 

“It's a local poison,” said the Doctor, “but I should be able to treat the symptoms. Hold on, I'm going to fetch a medkit from the TARDIS.” With that he raced off out of the room. 

Left to herself, Missy allowed herself a small smile as the poison shook her body. She could feel herself starting to lose consciousness, but she wasn't worried. The Doctor wouldn't let her die, he'd do everything he could to save her and her research earlier that afternoon had indicated that the poison would be easily dealt with by technology from the TARDIS. 

She carefully pushed away the smile and closed her eyes – it wouldn't do for him to find her with a grin on her face as she lay half-dead waiting for him to save her. That might look suspicious, and the Doctor was almost as clever as she was. 

Missy let herself drift away into a comatose state, happy and hopeful.

\- - -

She felt weak when she woke up, but that was only to be expected. She stretched her limbs and looked about for the Doctor. He had moved an ornate chair over by her bed and was sitting at her side with new worry lines etched across his face. They suited him. 

“Don't move too much,” he cautioned, reaching out with a wet hand-towel to dampen her forehead. “You were out for two days.”

Longer than she had expected. Perhaps she had misjudged the dose. “You saved me.”

He shrugged. “I had to.”

“Thank you.”

He replaced the hand-towel in a shallow bowl of water and leaned over her to kiss her forehead. “I thought you might die. One of your hearts stopped for ten minutes.”

“The waiter,” she began, “he -”

“Don't worry about him, he's gone.”

“Gone where?” she asked, scarcely daring to breathe in case she broke a fragile balance. 

“Wherever these people go when they die.”

Missy was glad of her current weakness, it meant she couldn't leap up and dance for joy. “You killed him,” she whispered, keeping her voice neutral. 

“I've been too soft,” he said, quietly. “I let them think I was weak and I almost lost you because of it.” He stood up, started pacing. “I give them chances to change and they just take advantage of them. They take advantage of _me_. I didn't want to believe you that I'd have to be ruthless, but you were right. No more mercy when they don't deserve it. No more kindness when I have to be callous.”

Missy watched him with elation in her hearts. She had done it, she had pushed him off the cliff. Finally. She had been trying for centuries, but now she had the Doctor just the way she had always wanted him. She heard the anger in his voice and saw the dark passion in his eyes. He was glorious. She hoped he wouldn't notice how aroused she was. 

He sat down on the edge of her bed, took her hand in his. “I won't let anyone else hurt you. I promise.”

“You can't promise that,” she croaked. 

“I can,” he insisted. “They went too far and now they're going to regret it. That waiter can't have been working alone, I've sent spies out into the city to find out who helped him. The rebellion ends today.”

Missy closed her eyes so he couldn't see the triumph in them. “I need to rest,” she murmured. “Let me sleep for a while.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” he asked.

“No,” she whispered, eyes held carefully shut. “Never.”

\- - -

True to his word, the Doctor rounded up the rebel leaders and had them executed in public to show the people what happened to those who went against him. There was a flutter of unrest in the major cities, but it ended rapidly when he moved troops in to patrol the streets. 

Missy helped organise the crackdowns and the investigations. This was her area of expertise, after all. The Doctor was a quick learner though, and he took to his new role with surprising gusto. She watched him tumble into the darkness that had always been within him, and took such delight in her own success. They worked together so well, if only this had happened centuries ago.

She made vague mental plans to move on from Strow and conquer a few nearby planets. Surely she could convince the Doctor that spreading his enforced peace was worth a couple of invasions? He could be a general again, he could become an emperor worth the name. Maybe she could talk him into naming a moon after her.

It was only a minor annoyance that the sex was less exciting these days. She couldn't even say why, because they were both willing to experiment and he never left her frustrated. There was just... something not quite transcendent about it, and she couldn't work out what was wrong. 

Still, it was only sex. 

\- - -

She stood in front of an antique silver mirror in their bedroom and scowled at herself. The Doctor may be perfect now, but apparently there was something wrong with _her_. She found her adoration flagging, which implied a flaw somewhere, and surely there wasn't one?

“Look,” she told herself sternly, “this is everything you've ever wanted. He's all yours now, he does what he's told and he's almost as ferocious as you are. And now you're getting tired of him? What's wrong with you?”

Her reflection didn't answer, even when she glared at it so hard that she could imagine the glass quivering under her stare. 

Why did it bother her so much that the Doctor had stopped caring about every stupid alien that crossed his path? Surely she didn't miss that disconcerting _goodness_? 

Missy saw her eyes widen. She did. She actually did. It hit her like an asteroid smacking into a planet – she missed him. The man she had helped create wasn't _the Doctor_. He wasn't her old friend. He wasn't the man she loved. 

She needed to get him back, she knew that now. Unfortunately she had never thought to plan for this possibility. She had no idea how to turn him from the path she had set him on. 

Missy had won, but she had lost the only person she cared about in the process.

\- - -

They rode on horseback until night fell. They were accompanied by a large number of well-armed guards and some minor officials carrying flaming torches. As darkness crept across the sky the people of the village started to look out of their homes to see what was happening.

The village had refused to pay its taxes, claiming poverty and a bad harvest. The Doctor and Missy were going to make an example of the tiny settlement. 

Missy manoeuvred her horse closer to the Doctor's. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, hoping she might stir some repressed urge towards mercy. 

He looked at her. “I thought you liked a good bonfire?”

“Fire's very pretty,” she admitted, “but this isn't you.”

He frowned. “What isn't me?”

She gestured with a hand. “All this. It's not your style.”

“They didn't name me the Oncoming Storm because I'm _nice_ ,” he countered. 

“You used to be afraid of that name,” she said. “You used to run from it, you used to tell people it was just the Daleks talking bollocks to hide the fact that any old idiot with a magic box could defeat them.”

The Doctor didn't seem to be following her. She let out a frustrated sigh and moved her horse in front of his. “I can't let you do this,” she told him. “It's not right.”

He looked surprised. “Since when did you care about what's right?”

“I don't,” she said. “The only thing I care about is you. The _real_ you. My best enemy.”

He scoffed. “That's all in the past, we're not enemies any more.”

“No,” she agreed, “but we should be. I miss the arguments. I miss the tedious lectures on morality. I miss trying to kill each other and hoping it doesn't stick this time. I miss _you_.”

She seemed to be getting through to him at last. She nodded towards the village. “You've done enough for these people, it's time they stopped depending on you. Get back to meddling in other people's schemes and bringing down corrupt regimes. You're good at that, you enjoy it.”

He stared at her, and she saw something break. “I don't care any more,” he said, so quietly that she almost didn't hear him. 

“You don't _want_ to care,” she corrected. “Caring hurts.” She reached out and took his hand. “It's okay, I won't tell anyone what happened here. I won't use it against you. Cross my hearts.”

The Doctor put his other hand over hers. “Maybe you're right.”

“I'm always right,” she said, brightly. She lifted the reins with her free hand. “Come on, let's get you home. Let's get you back to the TARDIS.”

They rode back to the palace in silence.

\- - - 

Missy decided that for the sake of tradition they should leave without bothering to let anyone know. Let them flounder for a few days, they'd work something out eventually. She stood in front of the Doctor's TARDIS, staring up at the ancient blue box while he collected his things and tried to remember where he'd left the key. She patted the door. “Look after him,” she whispered. “Don't let him get lost again.”

“I thought you didn't approve of talking to time machines,” said the Doctor, appearing at her side as if from nowhere.

She tried to look dignified. “I don't. I was humouring you.”

“You didn't even know I was here!”

“You're not a ninja, Doctor, I heard you trying to sneak up on me. Please don't rely on stealth to keep you alive, because it won't work.”

He laughed, but the mirth didn't quite reach his eyes. “What do I do now?” he asked.

Missy shrugged. “What you usually do. Travel a bit, see the universe. Get a new human, those always cheer you up.”

“I don't know if I can face losing another friend,” he said, sadness in his voice. 

Missy wasn't going to back down. “If you don't find someone to annoy within a week I'll be as shocked as Rassilon was when Omega invented the secondary prostate.”

This time the laughter was genuine. “Am I really that predictable?”

“Yes,” she said, “you are. Soporifically so.”

“I don't suppose you'd come with me if I offered to show you the stars?” 

She shook her head. “Of course I wouldn't.” She softened. “We've spent enough time together to tide me over for a good while.” She offered him her hand. “I have diabolical schemes to be getting back to.”

He ignored the hand and drew her into an embrace, kissed her cheek. “I look forward to stopping them.”

Missy held him close. “If you think you're up to it.”

They parted and he fished in his pocket for the TARDIS key. “I'll try to stick to what I'm good at from now on. So you'd better watch out, because I'm very good at foiling your plans.”

“You are,” she agreed, pushing sudden regret to one side. “We bring out the best in each other when we're fighting.”

Perhaps he was going to tell her that she wasn't remotely at her best when she was bad. Perhaps he was going to try to turn her to the path of pathetic decency. In the end he didn't say anything, just kissed her cheek again, quickly, and opened the door of his ship. Missy raised her hand to bid him farewell, saw a smile twitch the corners of his mouth as he closed the door between them. 

She watched until his TARDIS dematerialised, then headed back to her own vessel. She walked with a spring in her step, whistled a little tune that she had invented herself and that didn't ever end. 

It was good to have an arch-enemy. It was good to have a friend. The Doctor was both, and she hoped he always would be. 

\- - -  
\- - -


End file.
